stepped into a covered boat, where my two guards placed me upon a form, keeping always hold of my arms, and two others sat at my feet. The watermen started the boat, and rowed in the greatest silence. I saw nothing, and heard only the cracking of the pieces of ice carried along by the water. This situation, I confess, was most painful to me, for all this mystery, silence, and caution, showed me too well that I was considered a state-prisoner, and therefore honoured with the particular hatred of the Empress, by whose orders, no doubt, they acted in this manner. I endeavoured to arm myself with all my courage, and during my passage I had in my mind the “Justum et tenacem” of Horace. The Roman poet sang these beautiful verses at his ease, in his charming Sabine villa, lying comfortably on a sofa, by the side of his beloved Lalage. But could he have made these verses, if loaded with chains, and on the point of being thrown into prison, as I was? I doubt it. After a sail of half an hour, our boat touched the bank, and I
